Betrayal of a Reluctant Jester
by The Tiramisu Of Impending Doom
Summary: Reply to C.R. Carter's challenge on VincentXTifa forum. Vincent falls prey to Yuffie's games and becomes the main attraction. Collab with Penfeather. The first chapter is the actual challenge, but we decided to write more.
1. Chapter 1

Betrayal of a Reluctant Jester

_Disclaimer: Square-enix owns Final Fantasy VII and all its properties. The story belongs to __**The Tiramisu Of Impending Doom **__and__** Penfeather2000.**_

_Note: This first chapter is a little oneshot in response to C.R. Carter's challenge on the VincentXTifa C2 community forum. Enjoy._

"You're crazy. A fun kind of crazy."

Vincent raised an eyebrow at that remark. Crazy, he'd give her that. But fun? He would readily debate that.

"Your observation is flawed, Kisaragi," he informed her bluntly.

Smiling wickedly, she gestured to the hat on his head. "Thought I could trick you into believing, since you're wearing that... fun... kind of crazy... hat."

Vincent sighed heavily. It was she who insisted on putting the ridiculous thing on his head in the first place; that is, the jester-type purple hat with golden bells. And he had submitted only moments before, when she threatened to inform everyone of his deepest secret should he refuse.

Yuffie smirked at his obvious discomfiture, and Vincent resisted tearing the silly thing from his head and telling her to do her worst. He couldn't, because he knew she would. And she couldn't know his secret. He shouldn't have come. And he shouldn't have lingered so close to the entrance that the instant she walked into Barret's party at Seventh Heaven he saw her, in that sleek black dress that fit her like a glove and lent soft luminosity to her pale skin and sable richness to her flowing, unfettered hair. For a fleeting space of time, measured in a heartbeat or a catch of breath, his face betrayed his secret as though he'd posted it on a theater marquee, revealing to anyone who might look, the besotted fool that stood there. And Yuffie Kisaragi had been looking.

Already an outrageous spectacle, he would be wise to look elsewhere, in case his gaze fell where it should not. He lowered his eyes to the floor, but Tifa Lockheart's enchanting image defiantly remained in his mind.

"End this painlessly here and now, Valentine." Yuffie's whisper, however unwelcome, held wisdom. "Go on… tell her how pretty she is."

On cue, his ears caught the pleasant sound of Tifa's musical laughter, tempting him to lift his willing eyes to her once more. He clenched his jaw as he wished Yuffie to become silent—a miracle, he knew.

The approaching sound of high heels tapped against the wooden floor, and Yuffie giggled beside him.

Knowing it was she but hoping it wasn't, afraid to look, but incapable of refraining, he raised his eyes sharply, setting the bells on the ridiculous hat jingling. A critical mistake…because once having looked, he could only stare. At the way her hair draped one slender shoulder to draw his gaze to her narrow waist and curvaceous hips, accentuated by that... dress, and then unerringly downward to trim, finely-muscled legs lovelier in high heels than he'd ever imagined, and straight back to her face to gauge her reaction at the silly sight of him.

Yuffie snickered again, but he hardly heard as he worriedly studied the twinkle in those beautiful brown eyes and the pretty fingers pressed to twitching lips.

"Vincent's got something to say to you, Tifa," Yuffie blurted.

He opened his mouth to protest, but the ninja gave him the elbow.

"You do?" Tifa examined his face, and her merriment vanished at the confusion and wonderment she saw in his crimson gaze.

Vincent watched her chocolate, wine-flecked eyes change, silently acknowledging what she found there.

Tifa softly smiled.

Vincent's eyes widened, and he huskily replied, "I do."


	2. Chapter 2

Betrayal of a Reluctant Jester

Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all of its properties belong to Square-Enix. The story belongs to The Tiramisu Of Impending Doom and Penfeather2000._

_A/N: Well, we were writing the oneshot, and… one thing led to another. You know how it is._

* * *

Tifa raised her eyebrows expectantly, her dazzling smile growing behind her delicate fingers, and Vincent parted his lips to speak, helpless but to do anything but gape at her in awe.

_You look… so beautiful…_

At a loss, he closed his mouth again, tightening his jaw, and then with some reluctance turned his head slightly to look back at Yuffie; the bells on the hat chimed again, reminding him of the absurd picture he presented.

Her eyes burning like coals at his hesitance, the ninja put her hands on her hips impatiently. An unsettling smile pulled up the corners of her lips, instantly reminding him of their agreement. If he didn't do his part, Yuffie would surely make him pay. Whether she revealed his secret here and now at the bar—or later, when he would be just as unprepared as he was now—did not matter… and it didn't make this any easier.

He returned his attention fully to Tifa Lockheart, whose smile had faded slightly as she darted her gaze back and forth between Yuffie and Vincent. Her curious burgundy eyes lingered on his face for a time and she clasped her hands behind her back patiently.

He swallowed hard. Then he gruffly cleared his throat, buying himself some time to decide what to say.

He could say the words he'd thought of to say, before he'd managed to halt them on the end of his tongue, but those words were not for such a place as here and such a time as this.

He should say the words Yuffie extorted him to say, before she spilled the contents of his heart in front of all who would see, turning his most closely guarded secret to parody merely to make of him a fall guy for her own perverse entertainment. Truthfully, he suspected Yuffie would prattle off her own interpretation of what she'd seen anyway. Already, she'd nearly betrayed him despite his surrender to wearing the ridiculous hat. Better to come from his lips than hers; best to redeem his secret from her treacherous tongue.

Tifa frowned prettily at Vincent's vacant features, wondering if the man meant to speak after all. "_Did_ you have something to say to me, Vincent?"

He helplessly gazed in befuddlement at her tenuous smile of encouragement and nodded his head. The golden bells jingled, and the corner of a one crimson eye ticked at the sound.

"Yes, Tifa," he managed to say. "I did have something I wish to…"

"Whoa! Miss Lockheart, you sure are a knockout today!"

Reno of the Turks eyed her black dress appreciatively, and Vincent Valentine regarded the redheaded Turk with baleful eyes. While he could not argue with the man's observation, he would've voiced it differently, and he didn't need two jokers at his side while he was the one made into a reluctant jester. Moreover, now his own sentiments would no doubt be considered worthless, and he felt even more cheated now that he had a greater audience than he'd first planned…

Not that… he'd planned this… disaster… anyway…

He returned his full attention to Tifa to gauge her response. With just the slightest color reddening her cheeks, she gave Reno a smile, one that Vincent Valentine would have been overjoyed to receive—if only he'd spoken fast enough—except that her eyes were narrowed slightly and her hands rested on her hips as if she were ready to distribute punishment, despite her state of dress.

"Oh, thank you very much, Reno," she replied. "Did you wish the birthday boy a happy day?"

"Sure did, but—" His voice stopped when his gaze wandered and rested on the very un-Vincent-like purple hat on the ex-Turk's head, and a smile pulled at one corner of Reno's mouth as his emerald eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Well, well… Valentine… That's quite a nice hat you have there… It almost makes you look… I don't know… crazy."

"Yes, so I've been told," he answered blandly. Yuffie would certainly pay for this later, he was sure of it…

Reno lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Hey, Valentine, I'm just jokin' with ya. Glad you could make it." He returned his attention to the brunette, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. "At any rate, Tifa, if you ever get—"

Yuffie coughed impatiently, and her eyes flared when the red-head sent his regard her way.

"Yeah…okay….you look nice too, Yuffie…" Reno dubiously eyed her lime green and purple mini-dress and purple sneakers and developed a theory regarding the original source of the jester hat on Valentine's head.

"Get lost, Turk," Yuffie grumped. "Can't you see we got business here?"

"Yeah…an' I'm afraid to ask what…"

The sharp staccato of a fast walking pair of high heels tapped up behind him, and he quickly turned away from the eye-wrenching view to check out the newcomer.

"Reno! I've been looking everywhere for you!" The blonde Turk frowned her disapproval of his current company.

The redheaded Turk eyeballed her sleek powder blue sheath of a dress. "Whoa, Elena! You sure are a knockout today!" He scanned the room with a disgruntled frown. "You come with Tseng?"

She propped her hands on her lovely hips. "No, you idiot! I came with you!" Her hazel eyes turned suspicious on his half-empty beer glass. "How much have you had to drink anyway?"

He held the glass up and eyed it too, and he shook his head in ignorance. "Dunno, but…" He raised twinkling eyes to her face. "Since I came with you, let's dance."

More than willing to accommodate his suggestion and eager to get the beer glass from his hand, Elena took it from him and set it on a nearby table. Then she took a firm grip on his bony wrist and dragged him away. He waved merrily over his shoulder as he took his leave.

Tifa automatically returned the wave as she watched Elena tow the redheaded Turk away, and then she recalled she had business to address, and determined chocolate eyes shot around to land firmly on the jester's pale face.

"About that business you meant to tell me, Vincent…" She lowered her pretty brows with her words. "What was it again?"

"I wanted… That is, I meant to… tell you…" He frowned at his miserably failing words as his gaze slid to the tips of her dark shoes hopelessly.

Tifa tilted her head to a side, her questioning gaze wandering over to Yuffie, who was glaring expectantly at the stubborn man who apparently had something very important to say but seemed reluctant to disclose it anyway.

Shaking her head in puzzlement, she folded her arms as she considered him. She intended to get to the bottom of this business, one way or another. She knew the man usually spent a great deal thinking before he spoke, but his current display of hesitance seemed a tad unusual. Yes, he certainly had something _very_ important to tell her...

"Is there something wrong, Vincent?" she tried again, attempting a tone as encouraging as possible.

He looked almost… defeated… with his shoulders hunched even as he shook his head, causing the bells on the hat chiming pleasantly to belie the man wearing it. She had little doubt that the silly hat on his head added to his discomfort…

Digging her shoes into the old wooden floor, she lowered her eyes coyly. "Um… if you want, you can—you know—take off that hat. If you want. Not that it looks bad… I mean…"

Then her cheeks went aflame with embarrassment at her somewhat lame attempt to make him feel less ill at ease.

Yuffie started to voice her disapproval, causing Vincent to lift his head toward her in alarm, but before she could say anything, a gruff voice broke through the silence.

"Valentine! Since when do you wear pansy hats, ole buddy?"

Cid Highwind stepped over, and took it upon himself to bravely reach out and play with the bells on the jester hat. Vincent peered down at him ominously, glowing eyes narrowed to red slits.

"Please do not do that," he growled almost inaudibly between gritted teeth.

"What's dat ya say, Vincey ole buddy?"

"_And do not refer to me by that…ridiculous appellation either,"_ he silently but fiercely thought, although when he spoke only polite words came from his numb lips.

"Good evening, Cid," he stiffly greeted. "I trust you are well." He stubbornly folded his arms and turned his eyes to the floor, careful to avoid Tifa Lockheart's doubtful and too inquisitive gaze as well as Yuffie's reproachful and vaguely menacing one. "…And the hat is not mine," he remembered to add. He winced slightly at the bare hint of exasperation and crossness that he heard in his own voice.

Tifa's eyes narrowed on Vincent's downcast face in reaction to what she imagined she'd heard in his tone, and Cid Highwind's eyes went bleary as he laboriously mulled over the ex-Turk's last words. Both the elegantly dressed fighter and the inebriated pilot swiveled their gazes from Vincent to Yuffie and back again as the chagrined gunman carefully examined the foot worn boards beyond the toes of his boots at length. Chocolate eyes turned suspicious and glazed azure eyes rounded in stunned realization.

"Aha, I get it now! Your hat matches Yuffie an' Yuffie matches your hat!" He indicated the hat and the dress with a broad wave of his hand, obliviously sloshing the amber contents of his beer glass onto the floor with the move. He winked conspiratorially. "You two came together didn't ya?"

Vincent's head flew up in alarm at Cid's mistaken insinuation, and crimson eyes rife with worry and denial shot straight to Tifa's face as his lips helplessly parted with the desperate need to clearly dissuade all within hearing, most especially Tifa Lockheart, of that erroneous and unthinkable idea, only to encounter chocolate eyes busy with speculation and perhaps…distrust. Without a doubt, he would have given voice to reckless and unfortunate words then, if Yuffie had not preempted his disavowal.

"Gawds, old man! Booze gone to your brain?!" Her hands flew to her hips and her pert features twisted in disgust. "Me and a sad sack like him?! Get real! 'Sides…it's not _me_ Vamp Man's got the hots for!"

This time his alarmed crimson eyes jerked to the ninja girl's face in his dismay as his jaw came unhinged, giving the exact appearance of a marionette on a string controlled by a willful child's hand.

Yuffie clapped a hand over her mouth. "Ooops," she muttered through her fingers.

Cid lifted one eyebrow at Vincent. "That so, Valentine?" he asked with an impish grin.

Vincent brought his eyes to the pilot guardedly, still a bit stunned at Yuffie's assertion, which had nearly revealed the whole truth—or at least, her version of it. And if she had done so, he had no idea what he would have done. Maybe he would throw down the ridiculous hat and leave the bar, the town, and the continent… and just… never come back.

Their spoken contract was shaky at best, and the fact of the matter was that he still had to clean up the mess she'd made—or at least the mess she'd worsened seconds ago. It had been his mistake to start this madness, and it would seem that he needed to end it as well, before…

Oblivious to his friend's troubled expression and too impatient for an answer, Cid guzzled of his glass, unwittingly finishing the contents. His eyes crossed as he suddenly peered down to where the last bit of froth remained at the bottom of the glass. And then he frowned as though he were bereaved, no doubt because there was significantly less beer in the seemingly endless glass than when he first brought himself here.

"Okay, ya old fart, you can go now," Yuffie muttered to the pilot. Much to her credit, Vincent thought, even though he might have told him off another way.

"Sure, I know where I'm not wanted, Princess," he slurred. He pointed his empty glass at Vincent accusingly, his eyes dazedly fixed on the bells of his jester hat.

"But you do… have the hots for… someone," Cid pried.

"He doesn't have to tell if he doesn't want to, Cid," Tifa pointed out chidingly, and Vincent repelled the urge to look her way once more. Instead, he pretended to find something of interest in Cid's empty glass.

"No he doesn't," Cid agreed. "Maybe he'll tell me later." Then, winking, he nudged Vincent with his elbow, causing the ex-Turk to lift wary eyes to him once more. "Won't ya, Vincey?"

"…Probably not," Vincent replied carefully, narrowing his eyes at the drunken man with a hint of annoyance, especially as he'd used that wretched nickname again.

"Sure ya will," Cid assured him boisterously. He slapped him solidly on his back, so hard that the jolt set Vincent forward a step and started the bells on the purple hat jingling. "Get a few beers under your belt and you'll spill your guts, Vince. Bet yer bottom dollar." Chuckling at the prospect of getting Valentine three sheets to the wind, moreso than at the thought of any secrets the man might reveal, Cid shuffled away, keeping his boots as close to the floor as he could in the hopes of keeping the unsteady and uncooperative things in their place beneath him.

Vincent dumbly nodded, forgetting to disabuse Cid Highwind of the notion that he, a former Turk of the Shinra Manufacturing Company, would ever be persuaded to 'spill his guts' about any matter that he didn't wish to, disregarding the fact that he would not be foolish enough to become so inebriated as to make himself so vulnerable in the first place. In fact, he couldn't scrape up enough coherent thought to truly care what Highwind might think, caught dead in the headlamps of her watchful eyes as he was, now that he stood an entire step closer to her. Near enough to simply reach out and touch her satiny black dress, or her gentle lips...or her...

Cait Sith landed in the space between them with a heavy thump of his little red boots, his arms outspread in a flourishing gesture, startling Vincent from his useless thoughts. His eyes jerked downward to regard the mechanical creature disapprovingly, his irritation at the intrusion only deepening when it spoke. "Want me to tell your fortune, Vincent Valentine?" The shrill sing song twanged loudly in his head and brought his teeth to an edge.

"No," he curtly retorted, a barely perceptible trace of desperation in his voice. He shook his head firmly in punctuation, and despaired when the bells danced musically yet again.

"Yes," Yuffie countered exuberantly, her dark eyes dancing in mischief. "Tell his fortune, Cait Sith." Her gaze jumped to Tifa's face, and she smirked. "Then tell Tifa's."

Cait Sith swiveled his head to look up at the troublemaking ninja girl as Vincent Valentine dazedly shook his head, finding himself at a loss for an adequate protest. When had matters gotten so out of hand?

"What about you, Yuffie Kisaragi?" Cait brightly asked, bouncing from foot to foot. "Don't you want to hear your fortune too?"

Yuffie nodded enthusiastically, planting her hands on her hips. "You bet, Cait Sith." Her dark eyes turned sly. "But do them first."

He sent a withering glance her way, turning his head so sharply that it moved the bells on his hat once more. The noise only drove his irritation further and elicited a tone harsher than he'd intended when he next spoke.

"I don't need my fortune read," he bit out, and regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, for he knew that Miss Kisaragi would take advantage of his eruption and…

Cautiously, Tifa looked down at the mechanical cat. She recalled what happened last time Cait read her fortune, and it seemed more like a 'misfortune' in her opinion. Besides, he'd made several fortunes for the others already, and most of those turned out to be total crap. At least… that's what Barret had said at one point.

She slowly nodded to herself then, as Vincent's words seemed to reflect her sentiments. She had to admit that he sounded annoyed, and she didn't know why exactly. Maybe he lamented his decision about coming to the party in the first place. Frankly, she was surprised he came. And even more puzzling, she still didn't know why he was wearing that jester hat. In all of their moments with the rest of the team, he never really had a flare for those sorts of things. On the other hand, they _did _find the man wearing a cape…

And it bugged her that Yuffie was being so pushy about the whole fortunetelling business. The girl was pushy about a lot of things though, now that she thought about it. Still, there was something _odd_ going on here, especially with Yuffie was hanging around Vincent in the first place. The girl usually got bored with his company within the first two minutes or so. Tifa supposed he was more interesting today, what with his noisy hat and all. And… ah… he did look… handsome in his suit. Maybe that was it…

Anyway.

Tifa looked up sharply, and once she saw that Yuffie was opening her mouth to complain, she decided to speak up.

"Um, actually, I don't really want my fortune read either," she admitted, sweeping the long bangs out of her face as they obstructed her view. "But thanks anyway."

At her softly voiced denial, Vincent composed himself and surreptitiously brought his gaze to her face again in a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Could she have spared them—or him, rather—from a potentially mortifying experience? If so, he was most grateful, and if not, at least she stalled the inevitable.

"Why not?" Yuffie huffed, her hands resting on her hips as she sent an irritated glance her way, no doubt because Tifa ruined her chance for entertainment at Vincent's expense.

The ex-Turk lowered his eyes to the floor, anxiously chewing on the inside of his lip. The ninja girl wasn't truly cruel, was she? She wouldn't really try to humiliate him, would she? Didn't she have better things to do?

"Why not what?"

Vincent shot his eyes up to find that Reeve had wandered up and joined the group while he'd been fretting. He'd been so preoccupied with this jester hat nonsense, that he'd not even noted when he'd arrive. Now, the ex-Shinra executive stood with his hands clasped behind his back, shifting intrigued eyes to and fro from Yuffie to him, in search of an answer. His speculative gaze lingered on Yuffie for the beat of a few seconds, but the ninja huffed scornfully in response, her plans thwarted by two uncooperative nincompoops, and folding her arms across her chest, averted her eyes and stubbornly refused to explain. Reeve brought his unspoken query back to Vincent, and when their eyes inevitably met, the man's inquisitive gaze parked there. One dark eyebrow rose in punctuation of his query, prompting Vincent to provide him an answer.

In return, the ex-Turk eyed the ex-city manager impassively, offering him nothing in word or expression. Reeve opened his mouth to urge him more directly, but Cait Sith suddenly dove for his legs, halting his question on his tongue. Cait wrapped his gloved hands about the man's leg, pressed his cat face against Reeve's neatly pressed trousers and proceeded to sob. A tearless sob, of course, as Cait Sith had neither tears nor the capacity to cry.

"What's the matter, Cait Sith?" Reeve asked, more than a little bemused. Cait wasn't usually given to such sorrowful displays.

"Big meanies," he wailed, and his complaint made, he recovered just as suddenly as he'd been overcome, and he darted away.

"Big...meanies?" Reeve raised both eyebrows in wonder as he tracked the robotic cat's path to the bar where Cid Highwind sat with a burning cigarette in one hand and a brimming glass in the other. At the precise moment that Cid tipped the glass to his lips, Cait Sith scaled the bar stool and leapt to his back. Reeve shook his head in dismay and quickly looked away, denying culpability by virtue of apparent ignorance, should Cid Highwind seek to accuse him, once he quit choking.

"Well now..." His gaze darted around and came to rest on the purple jester hat. He wrinkled his brow. "...That's an interesting hat." He scowled a little with the turn of his thoughts. "Though...it doesn't seem quite your...style...Vincent."

Vincent's crimson eyes darkened at the reminder of how he'd been forced to don the ridiculous hat, and the bells jingled when he shook his head in agreement. "Tis Yuffie's hat," he curtly replied. "Not mine."

"Really?" Reeve looked Yuffie over from head to toe in speculation, taking note of the match between outfit and hat. "Have you another. I'd rather like one myself."

Yuffie opened her mouth to speak, but Vincent abruptly interrupted. "You may have this one," he bluntly replied, more than ready to be rid of the infernal thing. The bells tinkled as his hand touched the hat and tugged.

Yuffie's mouth instantly flew open to intervene. "Oh...Teeeeefaaaa..."

Vincent's hand froze.

"What?" Tifa asked, her hands settling on her hips, wondering at Yuffie's tone.

She raised her eyebrows and reminded her, "Vincent still has something to say to you."

Tifa swung her gaze back toward Vincent, smiling encouragingly. Yes, she did remember that the man had something to say to her. A miracle itself, as he'd rarely spoken to her before. And whatever he had to say was apparently interesting enough to keep Yuffie on his case about it.

His long fingers slipped away from the hat, and he lifted his eyes to hers, his expression reminiscent of a man about to face the guillotine.

The smile fell from her lips. She faced him more directly, crinkling her forehead in bewilderment at that look of dread on his face. "Vincent… what is it?" she prompted.

Saying nothing, he closed off his face to her once more and, at a loss, she turned her head to look at Yuffie.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Reeve frowned, missing a considerable amount of information about this entire scene, and tried to piece it together.

"C'mon, Valentine!" Yuffie whispered loudly. "What's the holdup? She's not gonna bite you."

"Well… is it… private?" Tifa attempted, her gaze darting between the two of them before settling on Vincent's face. Goodness, would she have to yank the words out of his mouth?

"Tifa…" Vincent dragged in an unsteady breath and let it out, his words failing miserably as he continued to watch her face.

Heaven help him, he didn't want to say it. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

"I wished to tell you that…"

_That you are the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on…_

_That you are the sweetest, most selfless woman I've ever come to know…_

_That I would willingly wear this… ridiculous hat… if only to bring that dazzling smile back to your face…_

Vincent clenched his fists at his sides. When had he become so dramatic?

Meanwhile, as the seconds turned into minutes, Tifa patiently waited, but Reeve was a little more than curious to discover what the man had to say, to Tifa Lockheart or otherwise.

"Vincent, is there something the matter?" He turned his head to look upon the disgruntled ninja girl with troubled eyes. "Did something happen, Miss Kisaragi?"

"Yeah, somethin' happened alright," she agreed with a firm nod, her eyes turning disappointed as she watched the ex-Turk.

Her discomfort growing, Tifa restlessly moved in place, shifting her weight from one high-heeled foot to the other as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Did I… do something wrong?" she asked.

He barely shook his head, the movement so slight that it remarkably didn't disturb the bells on his head. "No… Tifa," he hurried to deny her. She'd done nothing wrong. It was all his doing for agreeing to come here, when he could have occupied himself in much safer endeavors. Of course… he hadn't known that she would wear a dress.

Yuffie murmured in a somewhat musical tone, "If you don't tell her, then I will."

Her persistence astounded him. And his tolerance for her sadistic game amazed him. Beyond measure. Why in the name of Odin did he stand still for this abuse at the hands of a cheeky little girl who had no ken of all he'd been through in his life, no comprehension of all he'd done and could do, if still so inclined, and most of all, no appreciation of what Tifa Lockheart might mean to him beyond what she thought she'd seen, a superficial admiration of how beautiful he thought her in her dress? Yuffie Kisaragi did not and could not know of the depth of his feeling for Tifa. And Yuffie Kisaragi did not and could not know of his feelings of futility in the recognition that Tifa would never feel the same. Yuffie Kisaragi thought it all an opportunity to entertain herself at his expense. And at Tifa's too, for that matter.

Acting on a sudden surge of anger, he abruptly knocked the hat from his head with a swipe of his hand and turned on heel to stalk away, his ire masked behind his stiff and impassive face but revealed in the chaos inside his eyes, the black pupils awash with turmoil, the crimson irises aflame and fierce. Behind him, the discarded hat landed in a crash of jingling bells at the feet of the ex-Shinra executive, who turned brown eyes downward to examine the scattered points of the jester hat in bemusement.

"Then tell her," Vincent directed to Yuffie between gritted teeth as he went past her with his heated gaze locked on the door. The front door was his exit, his escape back to safety, and it laid none too close for him. Never again would he accept such an invitation, be it birthday or wedding or funeral. He would send his regrets, perhaps, and contain his worship of her to a distance henceforth.

Startled at the sudden weather change in Vincent's demeanor, Yuffie started after him. "Wait, Vincent! I didn't mean..." _To make you mad..._

Stunned at the turn of events, especially as it seemed to relate to her, Tifa took a couple of quick steps after Vincent and then paused near Yuffie's elbow, uncertain as to what she should do.

"Tell me what?" Tifa suddenly asked of Yuffie, her eyes locked in on the rapidly retreating back of Vincent Valentine.

At the question, voiced a tad more curtly than she'd expect, coming from Tifa, Yuffie's eyes darted around, wary. "Well...um...you see...I..."

"Just...never mind," Tifa interrupted, exasperated with the whole mysterious business and dismayed that Vincent seemed to have something to say to her that he didn't feel he could say. And if that recognition hurt her feelings just a teensy bit, she knew she should let it go. After all, she knew how he was...didn't she?

"Vincent! Wait!" she called out as he went out the door. He didn't even look back, and the snub left her feeling more than a little annoyed. She hurried after him with some vague notion of speaking her mind, her high heels tapping smartly against the hardwood floor as she gave chase, but he swiftly vanished from sight on the other side of the door. Steaming across the threshold in his wake, she came to a halt and looked up the street for a sign of the man, but didn't find him. Promptly, she swept her gaze the opposite way, and lo and behold found him right away, to her amazement, standing near the closest lamppost, looking as if he had nowhere to go.


End file.
